“What is this?” he asked.
“It is a compass,” she said, “to help you find your way home.”
Chapter 29
Buried in the Ground
Two days later Bloom set out on his journey to the Wanderers Mountains. He and Amelliea had each been given a charmed mirror, which they could use to speak with each other while they were apart. Bloom’s mirror was the smaller of the two, and it had a hinge so that it could be folded in two and kept securely closed for travel, while Amelliea’s oval mirror stood on a little silver stand on her dresser. Before departing, Bloom said farewell to the King and the members of the royal court and bid his daughter goodbye. Bloom had made up his mind to keep his true destination a secret. Even Amelliea was not made fully aware of the exact details of Bloom’s journey, and with her mind noticeably elsewhere, the girl did not think to ask too many questions. Exercising politeness, the King of thieves did not inquire into the wizard’s intended direction either. In this way, Bloom set off westward with total confidence in his secret.
Leaning into his stride and pressing off of the ground with his staff, the Wizard rushed towards the mountains on the horizon. He hoped to accomplish his task and then quickly return, not wanting to leave his daughter in the company of strangers for longer than was necessary.
Bloom trekked across the land late into the evening, and as the first stars cut pinholes in the navy sky, he found a sheltered place at the foot of the mountains to spend the night. After he had finished his dinner, and made ready his bed, he pulled out the enchanted parchment and was surprised to find a glowing X not more than twenty paces from his campsite. Bloom grabbed his shovel and got to digging. Before he had dug more than two feet down into the sand, his shovel hit a solid object with a clang. Getting onto his hands and knees, the wizard scooped sand from the hole until he found the lid of a small, metal chest. Heaving with all his might, Bloom pulled the heavy chest out of the hole by a rusty handle. He dragged it into the light of the campfire and broke the lock off with his shovel. The lid creaked reluctantly as he pulled it back, revealing a pile of sparkling jewels and gold coins inside the chest. Bloom reached into his robes and pulled out the magical coin purse he had been gifted by the King of thieves. One handful at a time, he scooped the treasure into the purse until the chest was empty. The wizard snapped the purse shut, and found that it remained outwardly flat and empty looking as it had before. He opened it once more and peered inside to find a pile of treasure heaped inside the fabric as if within a large spacious bag. Bloom replaced the purse inside his pocket. The wizard slept well that night, dreaming only of apple tarts, and in the morning he awoke feeling refreshed and inspired.
Whistling as he packed his things, Bloom found himself looking forward to a fruitful treasure hunt. He shouldered his pack, and started up the slope of the nearby mountain, following a winding path. Bloom kept the map out and checked it periodically to see if any treasures would appear and sure enough, before the end of the first hour a new X glowed brightly at the base of a large tree. Bloom set down his pack, and got out his shovel once again. He dug for a while until he heard a now familiar thud. The chest he uncovered was several times larger than the first, and was far too heavy to remove from the pit. The wizard managed to pry off the lid without digging out the entire chest. This time, the container was filled with shiny gold coins. The countless rounds sparkled up at him, contrasting sharply with the rusty old chest that contained them. Again, the wizard carefully scooped the treasure into his coin purse. Before moving on, he buried the empty chest, not wanting to attract the attention of strangers.
It was not yet noon when a new X appeared on the map. Bloom set down his pack and began to dig. This time the buried treasure was a single, giant emerald. With difficulty Bloom managed to slide the gem inside the purse. He checked the map. Another location was marked in the same area. Again he dug, and soon came upon an iron chest full of silver rounds. The day wore on, and as Bloom moved deeper and deeper into the Wanderers Mountains, he found dozens of treasure sites. He took his time collecting all he could. As a light evening mist began to settle along the ground, the wizard smiled to himself, for never in his life would he have guessed that his arms would someday ache not from sawing trees or chopping wood, but from scooping up treasure!
Chapter 30
New Girl in the Court
Amelliea awoke early in the morning, unable to sleep from excitement. After she bathed and pinned her hair up in a tight bun, she dressed in the black robes that had been brought for her by a maid. Amelliea hummed and sang as she moved about her living quarters. Before long, breakfast was delivered on a silver platter right to her room. The combat lessons would begin long before the traditional breakfast would be served in the palace, so from now on she would be eating an early breakfast alone like all the other students. Amelliea ate with a hearty appetite, knowing the food would give her energy for the action to come.
As the pale light of the morning grew brighter, Amelliea began to feel nervous. Any moment now, she would be going to the training hall and joining a group of highly skilled students. Her teacup shook in her hand and she tried to stabilize it by tensing all the muscles in her arm, but was unsuccessful. She let out a slow breath. The bell was rung at the north tower, announcing the time and making Amelliea jump. The girl glanced at the clock in alarm, and setting down her teacup harder than was needed, she raced out the door and hurried to the great hall. When she arrived she found the lesson already under way. Apparently, the students were expected to arrive early. Blushing deeply, she stood beside the trainer for a long while hoping to be granted permission to join the others. Finally, after nearly a quarter of an hour she voiced her needs.
“Um, excuse me,” she began. “I’m new here, and I am not sure where to start—”
“I was beginning to think you’d never speak up,” said the trainer without looking at her. “I guess you’re not a lost cause after all.”
“I was trying to be polite is all,” explained Amelliea.
“Politeness is dangerous in combat,” replied the man.
“So, may I join them?” she asked meekly after a moment of silence. She wished he would look at her.
“Only if you are worthy,” said the trainer. He turned his dark eyes upon her, and his stare was so intense that Amelliea regretted her wish, and had to look away, unable to hold his gaze. “Are you worthy?” he asked sternly.
“Um, I think so,” said Amelliea, looking at the floor.
“What did you say?” asked the trainer.
Amelliea forced herself to meet his eyes. “Yes, I am!” she said as firmly as she could.
He looked away once more, giving her no sign whatsoever of approval, disapproval, permission, or forbiddance. Amelliea shrugged and got in line behind the first group of students. She noticed right away that she was the only girl in the entire room. The students were doing a tumbling exercise and one by one they took turns doing a series of cartwheels across the matt, before returning to stand at the back of the line. There were three boys ahead of Amelliea, and then two, and then only one. She did not know what to do. She had never tried to turn a cartwheel before. Everyone who had gone before her had used both hands to do it. This was not an option for her. Suddenly, it was her turn. Amelliea glanced nervously at the trainer. He was looking on with his arms folded across his chest. Amelliea felt a second blush rising to her face as she felt the eyes of strangers heavily upon her.
“Here goes,” she whispered to herself, and lifted her one good arm above her head. Her first cartwheel was more of a sideways frog hop. Laughter exploded behind her but she ignored it and tried a second tumble. The second cartwheel was worse than the first by a good bit, and she ended up falling on her rear end. Again, laughter echoed through the hall like thunder.
“Silence!” commanded the trainer, and the hall became suddenly dead quiet. Amelliea tried again and again, feeling that the tumbling matt went on forever. Would there be no end to her humiliatio
n? At last she had reached the far end of the hall and she jogged back to the end of the line as she had seen the other students do. No more than a minute passed before it was her turn once again. She repeated the exercise. Over and over again she attempted the cartwheels. On her tenth turn, the final cartwheel had the flavor of potential, and Amelliea felt that she had finally figured out how to do it, when the trainer commanded his students to switch tasks. As she migrated to the dagger throwing station with the others in her group, she passed Prince Galvan and smiled at him, but he made no sign that he even recognized her. It seemed to Amelliea that the Gators took their training more seriously than was necessary.
The boys in line ahead of her threw the daggers at a target, and each of their blades entered the center mark with perfect precision. One at a time the students would then retrieve the daggers and present them to the next person in line handle first. On her turn, Amelliea wiped the sweat of her palm on her pants and accepted the blades from the boy presenting them to her. The boy smirked with a barely noticeable curve of his lips. Ignoring him, Amelliea imitated the throwing stance of the others. She threw the first dagger. It bounced against the target handle-first, and clamored onto the stone floor, sliding all the way into the training zone of the next group of students. “Yikes,” whispered Amelliea under her breath, enduring the nasty glances of disgruntled students. She threw the second dagger, and it flew high above the target and stuck in the face of a noble-looking man painted on a large framed canvass on the far wall. Amelliea swallowed hard. She hoped it was no one too important in the portrait. She had one dagger left. Amelliea took aim and threw the third dagger with nervous conviction. It clipped the outer rim of the target and ricocheted off at an odd angle towards a stone column standing several yards away. After leaving a nasty chip in the otherwise smooth surface of the stone pillar, the blade crashed to the ground making enough noise to turn every head in the training hall. Amelliea clenched her teeth to mute the sound and went to retrieve the blades without looking at the trainer. She had to yank on the dagger that had stuck into the painting several times before it finally came loose. On her way back in line she saw the Prince doing a series of cartwheels with no arms at all. It looked like a difficult flip to accomplish. Amelliea chewed her lip in a mixture of awe and jealousy and promised herself she would learn to do that someday.
After the dagger throwing, Amelliea was paired with a sparring partner to practice hand-to-hand combat. She and her partner took turns throwing each other to the ground. Having not yet learned to tumble gracefully, she fell hard many times but always got back up. Next, she trained with the spear. This was by far her least favorite weapon because it was difficult to wield with one arm and she had never before had to deal with such a cumbersome object. As far as Amelliea was concerned, it was a graceless, arcane stick, and the thought of wasting her time learning to use the spear flooded her with anger. Not surprisingly, her anger did not improve her technique in the least.
By the end of the day, Amelliea’s entire body ached so much she walked with a limp on both feet. She retired to her room, and fell asleep well before dinner. The next day was even worse than the first. Amelliea was so sore that she could barely complete the exercises without crying out and was sent away by the trainer.
“But I want to stay!” said Amelliea.
“You need to rest,” insisted the trainer.
“Can I at least watch the others?”
The man sternly shook his head, and beckoned to a servant. He whispered something in the man’s ear, and the servant’s eyes trailed over to Amelliea before he nodded and moved away. When Amelliea returned to her chamber, she found that a massage table had been set up in the living room, and a woman instructed the girl to lay face down on the table. At first Amelliea welcomed the idea of a massage, but was quickly disappointed upon discovering that the painful body work was more akin to torture than a relaxing therapeutic treatment. That evening Amelliea used the charmed mirror to contact her father.
“How is the training going?” asked Bloom.
“Um, fine,” lied Amelliea, winding a strand of hair around her finger.
“That bad?” laughed Bloom, smiling from the glass.
“Yes, it is going horribly!” confessed Amelliea. “I am no good at all. If I was at the top of my class in the village, I am at the bottom of the list here.”
“It sounds like you are learning a lot,” said Bloom.
“Oh yes, and the constant humiliation is making me so humble that soon I will transcend this limited mortal form!” She told him of the dagger-throwing incident and they shared a laugh.
“And the Prince?” asked Bloom.
“What about him?” blushed Amelliea.
“You are a bit sweet on him, aren’t you?”
“No,” said Amelliea dismissively, horrified at his perceptiveness.
“Not even a little?” pried Bloom.
“Well maybe just a smidge,” grinned Amelliea. Her father waited for a moment, smiling in silence. “Oh alright, so I have a huge crush on the guy, okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I live to hear him speak my name, and love to watch him eat, and pine away in agony if I don’t see him for a single day, are you happy now, huh?”
“Why these are perfectly normal and lovely feelings to have, my dear Amelliea!” exclaimed Bloom. “And how does he treat you of late?”
“He ignores me completely,” complained Amelliea.
“Well maybe he’s just shy?” offered Bloom.
“Father, he is not shy in the least! I don’t know what to think. Galvan seemed friendly enough at first, and now I feel as though I’ve lost my only potential friend.”
“Perhaps he’ll come around?” consoled Bloom.
“You were young what, three hundred years ago? Things have changed since then,” said Amelliea in frustration.
“I very much doubt that,” smiled Bloom, not taking offence to her moody words.
“Well I don’t think he is going to come around, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me at all.”
“We shall see,” said Bloom, before saying good night to his daughter, for it was growing late and he knew that Amelliea would benefit from rest.
However, Amelliea did not go straight to bed after her conversation with her father, instead she crept down the dark palace hallways to the training room and paced the tumbling mat with slow, quiet steps. Before long, she found herself curious to see if she could do a one-armed cartwheel if no one was watching her and there was no pressure to do it correctly right off. She raised her arm above her head, and reached out, committing to the movement. The resulting flop was far from perfect, but it felt better than the ones before. She tried the exercise again, letting her whole body weight land for a split second on her hand. Suddenly, she paused. That last cartwheel felt nearly effortless! Amelliea tried to repeat what she had done. It wasn’t long before Amelliea was working hard to perfect her technique. She found that she actually liked doing cartwheels. Not every tumble was a success, but she delighted in practicing and knew that eventually, each cartwheel would be perfect. Amelliea made up her mind to practice after hours each night, away from the harsh eyes of the trainer and the other students. Pleased with herself she retired to her chambers for the night.
In the morning, a maid woke her and pointed to the clock. There were ten minutes left to get to class. Her breakfast stood on the table. It had long ago grown cold.
“Miss, you’ll be late,” whispered the maid.
Amelliea wiped the sleep from her eyes. “Thank you for waking me,” she said.
“Oh my goodness, look!” said the woman, pointing to Amelliea’s neck. Dark blue bruises covered her skin. Amelliea sat up in bed. Her neck and shoulders had splotches of black and blue.
“It’s no big deal,” said Amelliea. “Please, hand me my robes.” The maid did as she was told, and with her help, Amelliea quickly dressed. She hurried to the training hall, and got in line just as the last of the boys came into the room be
hind her. The trainer did not look at her, or if he did, Amelliea did not notice, for she was focused only on the task at hand. On her turn, she did a series of one-armed cartwheels that were so much better than before, that no one found them funny at all, and then returned to the back of the line with a quiet satisfaction written on her pretty face. The boy behind her bumped into her with his shoulder, and Amelliea was about to tell him off when she glanced up and was surprised to find him smiling at her. She casually faced forward again, preparing for her next turn. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelliea saw Galvan expertly throwing daggers and various other blades of different shapes and sizes while navigating a challenging obstacle course. She wondered if she would ever attain that level of skill. His avoidance of her was becoming frustrating and more and more often, she had the strange desire to fight him.
In the afternoon the trainer had the students practice sword play. Amelliea was immensely relieved to at last hold a weapon that felt familiar in her hand. She was paired with a young man who was close to her own age. The boy was agile, but he lacked strength. Amelliea took advantage of this weakness and soon, upon noticing that the youth was no match for the girl, the trainer switched her to a new partner. The next boy was stronger, but he was not a natural swordsman and his movements were predictable. He rarely strayed from learned patterns and was not good at improvisation. Once again Amelliea used this to her advantage and before long the trainer moved her up in rank yet again. One by one, Amelliea fought all the young men until at last there was only one student left whom she had not beaten. Galvan looked upon her with a neutral expression.
“Are you too tired to fight me?” asked the Prince, giving her a way out.
“No, I’m all warmed up and ready to go,” answered Amelliea, rolling back her shoulders. As they faced off, Amelliea held Galvan’s gaze with unflinching conviction. After the first several strikes, it was apparent that the Prince was a better swordsman than the girl, but not by much.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 15